


Time After Time

by beatlelover22



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Cold, Common Cold, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sick Character, Sick Steve, Sick Steve Rogers, Sickfic, Sneezing, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatlelover22/pseuds/beatlelover22
Summary: Would I grant all your wishes and be proud of the task? Only forever, if someone should ask. // How long would it take me to be near, if you beckoned? Off hand, I would figure less than a second.





	1. A Night on the Town

Steve Rogers straightens his collar nervously as he gets ready for his “date.” Bucky had managed to get him a blind date; they were supposed to meet up at Steve’s house and go to the bar from there. Steve knew it was going to be a disaster from the get-go, but Bucky had insisted.

Turning on the water, Steve let it run while he searched for his razor. He didn’t actually grow much facial hair, but he wanted to at least make sure he was clean shaven for whatever poor dame had been set up with him. He’d also contracted a cold, which wasn’t surprising, but he wasn’t excited to have to hide it from his date. The last thing he’d want to do is get her sick.

He lathers up the shaving cream in his hands and applied it to his face. The razor itself is a cold blade and makes him shiver. Steve shaves with gentle, even strokes. Out of nowhere, his nose begins to tickle. Before he can do anything, he sneezes, razor still near his face.

“ _Kuh’ **TSCHHH!**_ ” His head snaps forward and he feels the blade cut him. 

“Ugh...” He groans as he watches a thin line of red appear on his cheek. 

Steve hurriedly snatches a piece of toilet paper and holds it to his cheek. A knock on the door startles him and he’s immediately thankful there’s no one there to see him jump.

“Hey!” Bucky Barnes says and laughs, stepping into the threshold. “How’s my favorite—”

“ _Hh’ **TCHOO!**_ ” Steve backs away from Bucky and barely catches the sneeze in his elbow, one hand still pressing the cloth on the nick.

Bucky frowns. “Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I have a cold,” Steve admits, rubbing his nose. “It’s okay, I can still go out.”

But Bucky doesn’t look so sure. He’s seen Steve sick plenty of times, with illnesses far worse than a cold, but still, it makes him nervous. 

“How the hell did you manage to get a cold in the summer? Isn’t it supposed to be fall or winter for you to be able to get a cold?”

Steve scoffs. “Bucky, temperature has almost nothing to do with my getting a cold. In fact, you can’t really catch a cold from—”

“I know, I know, I’m just teasing. What happened to your face?” He points at the scrap of toilet paper pressed against his friend’s cheek.

“I cut myself shaving, of course.” The young man tosses the scrap in the garbage bin. “Does it look okay?” A small, angry mark presents itself on his cheek.

Bucky nods. “I think it makes you look tough.”

Steve’s heart flips in his chest. He loves when Bucky says these kinds of things to him. “Thanks.”

“Now let’s go. We can’t leave those girls waiting on us.” He claps Steve on the shoulder, careful not to knock him down.

* * *

As the cab approaches the bar, Steve gets more and more nervous. He can’t ever recall a girl actually liking him, especially when Bucky is in the same room. Steve’s just too skinny, too scrawny and truth-be-told, much too average for a girl to like. Bucky? Well, Bucky’s the great war hero, about to be shipped off again. 

Sometimes Steve wonders if they know Buck’s a sniper and if they’d feel the same way if they saw him in action, killing. They probably would. Sure Steve gets jealous sometimes, but he really does like Bucky, a lot.

“There they are.” Bucky breaks Steve out of his thoughts and nods to two beautiful girls waiting outside the pub.

Two of the most beautiful girls Steve has ever seen are standing outside, waiting for them. They’re both wearing dresses, one sapphire blue, the other a nice yellow, and both sport high heels. 

The girl in blue looks a bit nervous, but probably not as much as Steve is right now. She’s chewing gum and glancing at down the street. Her friend appears to be bored, lazily twirling her curly locks around a finger while she chats. She has to have the reddest lips on the block, Steve thinks to himself.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “The one in yellow is all yours.”

Steve gulps and rubs his wrists. “Uh, Bucky. I don’t know what to do.”

Bucky grabs his friend’s hands and puts them in Steve’s lap. “Look, just follow my lead. She’ll love you.”

“ _Eh’ **TSHOO!**_ ”

“And don’t sneeze too much,” he adds, before handing the driver some money and climbing out of the cab.

They walk over to the women, Steve sweating and Bucky smiling. “Hey girls,” he says with a wave. “How are you?”

“Bucky!” the girl in blue squeals, throwing herself on him. “I thought you’d never show.”

Steve stands by awkwardly, waiting for Bucky to introduce him and trying not to sneeze. The yellow-dressed girl gives Steve an apprehensive glance. “Is this...?” she begins, sounding like she almost doesn’t hope it’s true.

“Girls, this is Steve,” Bucky says, then gestures to the girl in blue. “Steve, this is Evelyn,” he adds, nodding at the girl in yellow, “and Ruth.”

“Hi,” Steve offers, knowing Ruth already doesn’t like him.

She smiles pleasantly. “Hello.”

Bucky puts his arm around Evelyn. “Let’s not wait around ladies, it looks like it’s going to rain.”

And indeed it does. Storm clouds hang in the sky, surely ominous first-date signs. Or so Steve believes. They approach the doors and of course, Bucky is the one to hold them open.

* * *

They’re sitting together, boy-girl, boy-girl, but things are mostly centered around the soldier. Steve figures he should be used to it by now, but he never feels like he is. 

He’s not even a real big drinker, but tonight he’s already had two and a half drinks, more than normal. Bucky says something and both girls giggle.

Steve feels his nose itch but doesn’t make a real effort to stop it. He doesn’t try to make it unnoticeable. “ _Hih’ **KSHHH!**_ ”

Ruth is turned away from him and is facing Bucky. He smiles as he says something else and then tries to pull Steve into the conversation. “Steve here likes baseball too, don’t you?”

Both girls are staring at him now and he tries not to look like an idiot. “Yeah. I um, like the New York Yankees.”

“Me too!” Evelyn says, giving him a small smile.

“He has both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig’s signatures on a baseball,” Bucky brags, making Evelyn’s face light up. 

Ruth looks completely uninterested. 

“You don’t like baseball, Ruth?”

 _You don’t like me, Ruth?_ Steve imagines him saying this to her face, but his itching nose has other plans. “ _HhH! Kh’ **XTSHH!**_ ” 

Stifled, it’s such a girlish sounding sneeze, Ruth and Evelyn snicker and Steve can see Bucky smiling behind his hand. “Excuse me,” Steve mutters and both girls giggle again.

“Steve has the most adorable sneezes, doesn’t he?” Bucky jests, earning a laugh or two out of the pair.

To his dismay, he can’t help sneezing again. “ _Hiih’ **XXST!** Er’ **SHH!**_ ”

They bless him, still looking that like they want to laugh, but don’t.

“That’s so cute!” Evelyn comments.

“That’s so funny,” Ruth says in an almost flat tone.

Steve sniffles. This is embarrassing and not how it was supposed to go but Bucky’s loving it. He’s also kind of drunk.

“Do it again, Steve!”

Now he’s even more motivated not to. His nostrils twitch but he angrily rubs them with a slender finger.

A couple drinks later and Bucky is kissing Evelyn like there’s no tomorrow and he’s not being discreet about it. Every time Steve hears their lips smack or when Evelyn moans quietly, he blushes. They’re in public, for God’s sake. Ruth is still sipping from her glass, more bored than ever.

“I like your lipstick,” Steve tries, sniffling. Ruth doesn’t answer or give him any acknowledgement she heard him. After awhile, Steve’s head is bobbing up and down and he’s fighting to stay awake.

“ _Hihh’ **GNKK!**_ ” 

He’s too tired to get his hands up but instead stifles one into his shoulder. Evelyn is sent into a fit of giggles upon hearing the sound and Steve is so done. He’s got a killer headache and his nose keeps running. 

He can’t even relax with Ruth sitting beside him. Steve stumbles down from his chair and tugs on Bucky’s sleeve to tell him he wants to go home. 

He must not feel it though, because he doesn’t pull away from his girl. That’s just fine with Steve. He mutters a goodbye and an apology to Ruth and leaves.

* * *

It’s raining outside, hard. Steve can barely see, what with the way his eyes are watering and the blur of rain. Soon, he’s soaked to the bone and shivering. 

“ _Hihh’ **TSHOO!**_ ” Finally, he can sneeze in peace.

Steve desperately wants to get home, though. Unfortunately for him, he’s terribly drunk and can’t remember the direction his apartment is in. He could hail a cab, but he doesn’t have money and can’t recall exactly what his address is.

“Watch it!” A voice growls before barreling into Steve. He has such a small frame that he’s knocked completely to the ground. Steve sits there in a puddle, dazed, and watches as the large man continues walking. 

“ _Ehh... eh’ **TSHHH!**_ ” Steve sneezes into his hands, his hair dripping.

“Steve!” Someone shouts and Steve feels himself being hauled up. For some reason, this causes him to cough until the same person pats him on the back.

“What are you doing on the ground? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you home.” 

It’s Bucky. He leads his friend over to the curb and whistles for a cab. He helps Steve in and soon follows him. 

Bucky tells the driver his own address (because there’s no way Steve’s going back home to his house) and they’re off, speeding through the night.

“Whad aboud Evelyd?” Steve asks, congested and out of it.

“She... well, it wasn’t going to work out with us anyway. Plus, I didn’t appreciate the way Ruth treated you.”

“You didn’t? Id wasn’t — _hh’ **XXKSHHUHH!**_ ” A strong sneeze racks his body, but he still covers his nose and mouth with his hands. A true gentleman.

“Yeah, yeah, but I shoulda known.” Bucky rubs his face tiredly. “I’m sorry for taking you out, Steve. I really shouldn’t have...”

Steve shakes his head and unintentionally sprinkles his friend with water. “Doe, id’s defidetly dot your fauld. I just ged worse id the bordigs ad dights. Besides, I probably scared her away with by... _uhh... huhhH!_ ” But he pinches his pink nose and the sneeze stops in its tracks. “With by sdeezig.”

“No, you were fine. You did everything right.”

The ride home is quiet except for Steve’s occasional sneeze and coughing.

* * *

Bucky leads the man inside, shaking and shivering. Bucky shuts his door and locks it. He didn’t think he was going to let Steve go back home by himself tonight.

He collapses into the couch, exhausted. “I’b sorry I ruined your dight.”

Bucky gives him a sad smile. “Steve, you didn’t ruin my night. It looks like I ruined yours, more like.”

“ _Hehh... hih’ **GSHHOO!**_ ” Steve sneezes into his hands again.

“Oh God, right. Um, first things first. Get out of those clothes I guess.” Bucky had switched from friend into caretaker. He’d taken care of Steve so many times, it’d just felt natural at this point. Flu, strep, even pneumonia. You name it, Steve had contracted it at some point.

Steve shakily tries to unbutton his shirt. “B-Buck... I cad’t — _ehh... **HMPPP!**_ ” He presses his nose into his shoulder.

“I got it.” Bucky’s fingers move down his shirt, unbuttoning as they go, despite the many drinks he’s had tonight. Soon, Steve is shivering in his underwear and Bucky takes a quick moment to marvel at exactly how skinny he is. He can see all of his ribs and the goosebumps that seem to be everywhere.

Buck brought a blanket out of the closet and put it around his bony shoulders. “I’ll be right back, let me get you some clothes.”

And by clothes he really means “bathrobe” and pajamas. Steve puts his hands on Bucky to steady himself before stepping into the pajama pants. They’re much too big for him, but oh-so-comfortable. 

“Don’t forget the shirt,” Bucky reminds him and Steve puts his arms through the sleeves and lets Bucky button it. Lastly, he slips a bathrobe on his friend and watches as the ends of the robe pile at his feet. Bucky ties it around him and hands him the blanket. “You want to listen to the radio?”

“Ad this hour?” Steve’s mouth stretches into a yawn.

Oh, yeah. “You’re right,” Bucky nods. “It’s probably too late.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, id’s okay. Led’s try to find sobethig. _Ahh... **ATSCHHH!**_ ”

So Bucky takes the radio he owns and messes with the dial until someone’s singing drifts into the room. Steve grins. “I love this sogg.”

It’s Bing Crosby’s “Only Forever.” To Steve’s amusement. Bucky sits on the couch and starts serenading him. “Would I grant all your wishes and be proud of the task? Only forever, if someone should ask.”

Steve grins like an idiot when Bucky moves on to the next verse. “How long would it take me to be near, if you beckoned? Off hand, I would figure... less than a second.”

Bucky smiles at Steve until he sees his nose twitch. Annoyed, Steve scrunches up his nose and rubs it cruelly with his knuckles. “ _Ehhh... hehhHH!_ ” He pinches the sneeze away, making Bucky throw up his hands.

“Steve, we’re alone! You can sneeze in front of me if you want.”

He shrugs. “We’re sitting close together ad I don’t wadda — _AhhHH!_ ” The tickle is back and Steve’s hands immediately come to his face. Bucky sighs to himself and grabs Steve’s wrists.

“B-Bucky... I g-gotta... _hahh... Hahh’ **SHHHH!**_ ” He sneezes into the air and sniffs, flushing bright red.

“I’ve seen you with much worse than a nasty cold,” Bucky reminds him. “No need to be shy about it.”

“Bud id’s _hahhH_... e-embarrassig.” His nostrils are still flaring. “Ad I cad’t ged by dose to _stahh_... to stop doig this. Also, I think you’re drunk,” Steve points out.

“You are too.” Bucky can’t help thinking that Steve looks adorable like this, all drunk and so helpless. “Shhh...” he says as the song changes. “You like Sinatra, right?”

Steve nods, still blushing, but he lets his eyes flutter shut as Bucky starts bobbing his head. It starts with humming and turns into singing. “I said all, nothin’ at all. If it’s love, there ain’t no in-between.” 

Steve loves this so much.

Bucky watches Steve, his eyes still closed. He looks so naive and small, shivering underneath the blanket he’s wearing.

“Why begin, then cry for somethin’ that might have been? No, I’d rather, rather have nothin’ at all.” Bucky warbles softly, discreetly scooting closer to Steve. 

He figures sitting closer will keep his friend warmer, and there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what he’s had to do in the service sometimes, sleeping together or back to back to keep warm. But he can’t exactly hide the feelings he has for Steve.

“ _Ihh... **ITSCHH!**_ ” Steve sneezes an itchy-sounding sneeze and then gears up for another. “ _Hahh’ **ESHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Bucky murmurs, allowing Steve to put his head on his shoulder.

They fall asleep there with the radio on at a low volume. 

Steve snores congestedly the whole night, but Bucky doesn’t even wake up.


	2. Waking Up

Steve slowly opens his eyes and blinks. Once, twice, just taking in his surroundings. He’s in a bed, nothing special, and the radio’s on. _I must be sick,_ Steve thinks to himself, then glances around the room, looking for Bucky. 

If there’s one person that’d be taking care of him, it’d be Bucky. But wait. Steve remembers being Captain America, that gorgeous doll-of-a-girl Peggy, Bucky falling, Bucky’s death. Steve sits up faster than he’d planned to and immediately brings a hand to his pounding head. His nose is completely blocked and he can’t smell anything, but he can hear the radio. _Hmm... maybe I am sick after all._

“Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets field. Philly’s have managed to tie it up, four-to-four, but the Dodger’s have three men on... pitch, it’s a strike. He leans in, here’s the pitch swung on, it’s a line drive. It gets past Grissom. Rizzo will score, Reiser heads to third...” 

The rest of the radio broadcast turns into white noise as Steve recognizes something familiar about that particular game. He sits up completely, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and just listening until his nostrils start to flare.  
Steve feels the strong urge to sneeze and his eyes are watering. 

For him, it’s a feeling that he hasn’t experienced for quite some time. “ _Hehhh_...” Yet something feels wrong, scratch that, everything feels wrong about the room he’s currently sitting in. _Where am I?_ “ _ **ITSSCCHHH!**_ ” 

It’s a harsh sneeze, right from the throat, and leaves Steve bent at the waist.

“Bless you.”

Steve looks up to see a pretty woman beaming at him. “Also, good morning.”

“Where ab I?” Steve croaks, then flinches at his voice.

The brunette’s curls bounce every time she takes a step. “You’re in a recovery room in New York City.”

“Doe, really.” He rubs his nose a bit before repeating himself. “Where ab I?”

She smiles and her red lipstick contrasts greatly with her teeth. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

There’s just something about her voice that Steve doesn’t trust. “ _Hh’ **KSHHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” she says again, but it sounds fake. Everything about the room is fake, almost as if he’s been set up... and there’s something about the bra she’s wearing. Steve tries not to stare at the woman’s chest but... what is she wearing?

“The gabe.” He pauses to she if she’ll take the hint, but she doesn’t. “Id’s frob Bay, 1941. I kdow, because I was there.”

The young woman doesn’t say anything more, but her eyes give her away. She’s been found out; it is a lie. 

He stands up and towers over her. “I’b dot goig to say id agaid.” Steve figures he’d be a little more intimidating if he could just talk properly.

Two men burst in the room and that’s all Steve needs. He shoves one guy, kicks another and the both fly through the thin walls, revealing the whole set-up. It’s like a film, and Steve is a mere actor, subdued by a confusing, often comical plot. Only he doesn’t get the joke.

“Captain Rogers, wait!” the woman calls after him, stepping through the wreckage. Seeing he’s not coming back, she speaks into a little device and her voice reverberates through the entire building. 

Before Cap realizes it, there’s about fifty men chasing him through this unfamiliar building and he’s pushing people over, left and right, until his hands make contact with a door. 

He shoves it open and runs out into the street, where he’s nearly hit by a cab. So this is New York City, he thinks, but everything looks different. He stops in the middle of traffic and turns around twice. There’s films on the buildings and people are staring at him staring at the buildings.

“At ease, soldier.” A man wearing an eye patch is striding towards him and begins making conversation. Something about he’s been asleep for 70 years.

* * *

Steve is sitting at a table in a S.H.I.E.L.D. office when a stunning redhead walks in on him blowing his nose. “Looks like the new century doesn’t agree with you.”

He flushes pink and tosses the tissue in a waste basket. “I haven’t been sick for seventy years or more. It’s just another new thing to get used to, I guess.”

“Natasha Romanov,” she introduces herself and extends her hand. “And you are?”

Steve shakes his head at her patiently waiting hand. “Sorry, I just wouldn’t want to get you sick. I’m Steve.”

“That’s okay.” Her hand drops to her side. “You’re the Super Soldier everyone’s talking about?”

“ _AhH’ **TSHH!**_ Excuse be.”

“Bless you.”

“Thags,” he says thickly, reaching for another tissue. Natasha pulls up a chair.  
“They stdill haven’t found a cure for the cobbon cold?” His voice is somewhat muffled by the tissue clamped over his mouth and nose.

“No.” She gives him a rare smile. “We still have tea, though. And Vick’s VapoRub. I’d be happy to get someone to bring you some.”

“Thad’s okay. I’b fide.” 

Actually, he sounded horrible and felt even worse. All Steve wanted was Bucky, but nobody could grant him that request.

Natasha nods. “In that case... do you mind meeting with someone? He’s actually... well, let’s just say he’s a Captain America fan. You must know the type, the comic-book collecting, sticker-wielding, I-have-eighty-plush-figures-of-Captain-America fan?”

Steve chuckles. “Sure, send hib id. You’ll have to ward hib though, about by, uh... I just wouldn’t wand to get hib _s-sigg... ehh’ **KTSCHHH!**_ ”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d mind at all. In fact, he’d probably be honored to catch a cold from the great Captain America.” Natasha pulls a device out of her pocket and speaks to it. “Send him in, it’s all clear.”

Steve is expecting a child but what he gets is a grown man who has to be at least 40, give or take.

“Hi,” Steve greets him, then cringes at his own voice. “Sorry about by voice, I’b stdill gettig over a cold.”

The man just stands there in the doorway, almost as if he’s in shock. 

Natasha rolls her eyes. “For God’s sake.” She gets up, tugs the man over to them and sits him down in a chair. “This is Agent Coulson.”

“You can call me Phil, if you want.” He’s beaming. “It’s a pleasure, a real pleasure, to meet you, sir.”

“Ligkewise,” Steve tells him, obviously fighting another sneeze. His eyes squeeze shut and he thinks he sees Natasha slide back in her chair. “ _Ehh’ **SHHOO!**_ ” One isn’t enough apparently and Steve is left practically gasping for breath. “ _Ehh! HehhH! ErT’ **SSHOO!**_ ”

“Bless you!” Coulson exclaims.

Steve blindly gropes for a tissue and Natasha nudges the box in his general direction. “ _Hept’ **TSHHH!**_ ”

“‘Scuse be,” he mutters, embarrassed, and buries his face in a tissue.

After a few minutes of polite admiration from the agent, Natasha gives Steve a sympathetic look. “You know what? Maybe we should let him get some rest.” Natasha suggests to Coulson, standing up.

He nods eagerly. “You’re probably right. Nice meeting you, Cap!” He smiles and waves before the pair disappears out the door.

“Drat! I forgot to ask if he’d sign my Captain America cards!” Steve hears him say.

“Tomorrow,” is all Natasha responds with as her heels click down the corridor.

* * *

Steve finally decides to just go home and get some sleep. S.H.I.E.L.D. sets him up with a nice little apartment, directly in the complex. He unlocks the door and is pleasantly surprised to find a container of Vick’s VapoRub, chamomile tea and a little bag of throat lozenges on the table.

He can’t resist popping the top to the VapoRub and inhaling its scent. Steve almost immediately recoils as the strong smell attacks his nose. “ _H-hoo..._ ” he exhales shakily, knowing full well he’ll start sneezing again. And sneeze he does. 

“ _Ihh... Ihh’ **SHUHhh!** Hept’ **SHOO!** Ahh... hahhH! **ATSCHH!**_ ” Steve puts the tube down and shakes his head, dizzy. “That’s one way to clear your sinuses.”

* * *

The next week, Natasha Romanov is sneezing as well and cursing Steve Rogers’ name. “I hate this!” she snarls to Clint Barton, the only one brave enough to visit Natasha in her room when she’s like this. He wonders whether he should pat her on the back or start running, far, far away.

“ _T’ **sHH!** It’ **SHH!** Ihh... hiiihH! **ISHH!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Clint says as soon as he knows she’s done.

“I’m going to kill him!” she snaps, standing up and swaying a little.

“No, no,” he argues, gently pushing her into bed. “You’re gonna stay here and rest. Besides, Steve’s still pretty new and it’s not like he purposely gave you his cold. In fact, you don’t even know for sure that it was his cold that you got.” He stops talking when he realizes Natasha’s glaring at him. 

Before long though, her eyes water and she twists away from the archer. “ _Hh’ **TSHh!**_ ”

“Bless you, Tasha,” he tells her, climbing into bed.

“Trust me, you don’t want this,” she warns him, turning away.

“But I do want you.”

“Touché.”


	3. Road to Recovery for Two, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or the one in which Steve has to warn Bucky every time he sneezes bc of Bucky’s PTSD.

It’s been months since Steve’s gotten Bucky back.

There are aspects of him that are the same and there are some that are very different. For one, Bucky gets his hair cut by suggestion of one of his therapists as a “new beginning.” 

It’s not the exact cut that Steve remembers, but similar enough. There are also certain small things that set him off, like being touched. They’re working on it, but he only likes to be touched on good days and Steve has seen enough of the bad days to know when it is and isn’t okay. 

Steve is the one who cuts all of the tags out of Bucky’s clothes because he can’t stand them rubbing up against his skin all day. He also stays with him during nightmares or panic attacks. Loud sounds shock him and he often results to violence upon being startled, like the time Tony showed up at Cap’s apartment unannounced and was forced to duck out of the way as the knife left Bucky’s hand. Actually, Tony and Bucky haven’t gotten on very well together, which will be a problem for today.

Steve crawls out of bed and into his car to pick up Bucky from therapy at the usual time. He manages not to crash the car, despite his sneezing fits and watery eyes. How a superhuman can get a cold, he still doesn’t quite understand. Bucky opens the door and climbs into the passenger side.

“How was your appointment?” Steve asks, driving away from the building.

Bucky shrugs. “It was good.”

“Good. Hey, uh, Buck?” Steve says, scrunching up his nose, “I’m gonna — _heh’ **NXT!**_ ” 

Steve tries to warn his friend every time before his sneezes, just so it’s nothing unexpected. Stifling them also seems to quiet the explosion.

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t even flinch. “It’s okay, you don’t have to warn me anymore. I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh, re-really?” His voice shakes. “ _Hahh... hap’ **SHHT!**_ ”

“Bless you.”

Steve sighs. Now is as good of a time as ever. “Hey, you’re gonna be staying with, um, Tony today, okay?” he tells Bucky casually, hoping he’ll let it slide. He doesn’t.

His voice is practically dripping with suspicion. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“I don’t even like that guy,” Bucky mutters. “Are you sick or something?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing.

“Then why—”

“Because you need a break from me. We’ve been staying together for three months. It’ll be good for you to get some _f-frehhh_... fresh air.” His nostrils flare and Bucky watches him closely.

“Are you sure you’re not sick? You look like you’re going to sneeze,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not,” Steve says before sneezing again. “ _Ehh’ **CHSHH!**_ ”

* * *

It takes Bucky about five minutes to pack. “I’m used to packing light” is Bucky’s explanation and then he cringes, as if this brings back memories he’d rather not revisit.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells his friend as they walk together to the entrance of Stark Towers. “And behave, okay? I don’t want to hear any horror stories from Tony.” 

He feels like the mother of a five-year-old sometimes.

Tony meets them there at the doors and Cap smiles. “Tony, thanks for doing this.”

Bucky sulks, looking less thrilled.

“Come on in, Bucky.” Tony steps back so he can enter the threshold. Bucky does and makes a bee-line for the bathroom, without saying goodbye to Steve.

Tony winks at Steve. “I got your back, man.”

“ _Hh’ **KSHH!**_ ” He cups his hand over his mouth before continuing. “Thanks again. Sorry for this, I really just don’t want him getting sick, you know? His immune system a little weak at the moment—”

“I thought he was superhuman too?”

 _So am I, but I’ve got bloodshot eyes and a runny nose,_ Steve wants to inform him. Instead, he explains himself, at least halfway. “Well, he is, but due to all the recent trauma... Anyway, just make sure he doesn’t watch anything violent. Cooking shows, _Full House_ , I don’t care. Just none of that — _hah’ISHH!_ — none of that _CSI_ crap, okay?”

“Sure, sure.”

“And make sure to call me if you need anything or if they’re any problems.”

“Okay, Cap. You just go home and chill. Knock yourself out with some NyQuil.”

Steve grins. “Will do. Alright.”

He walks away, praying that everything will go smoothly.

* * *

“So,” Tony claps his hands together. “What do you wanna do?”

Bucky stares at him. “Have a drink.”

“You know Steve wouldn’t approve,” Tony says, walking into the kitchen. 

“JARVIS, fix our guest a Coke, please.” He turns to Bucky. “You do like Coca-Cola, right?”

“Yeah.”

So the pair sit on the couch, Bucky sipping a Coke out of the classic glass bottle and Tony indulging in some alcoholic concoction JARVIS cooked up.They sit in silence until Tony finally turns on the television to offer some white noise. _Non-violent shows,_ he reminds himself.

“Today, another school shooting—” Click. 

“Make sure you dice those onions, and I mean dice—” Click. 

“I’mmmm gonna wreck it—” Click. 

“The body was found with deep—” Click. 

He keeps changing the channel until he lands on something called _7th Heaven_.

“You’re pretty particular about your television programs,” Bucky notes, sipping his Coke.

After about five minutes of enduring the excruciating, sickly sweet, unrealistic show that is _7th Heaven_ , Tony switches off the television. “That show sucks.”

Bucky nods. “Nobody’s life is that sugary sweet.” 

It may just be the first time they’ve ever agreed on something.

“You ever play Gin Rummy?”

* * *

Steve arrives home to his apartment to find a package outside. The words, “for Steve” are hastily scribbled on a Post-It note. He brings it inside and locks the door behind him.

“Dear Steve,” the note inside the package reads, “I heard you weren’t feeling well from Tony so I went and picked up some stuff for you, to pay you back for last winter. Would’ve given it to you in person but I’m a bit of a germaphobe. Feel better soon, Sam.”

Steve chuckles, recalling the time Sam was down with the flu and examines the contents of the box. A Tupperware container of soup, still warm, tissues, Vick’s, ginger ale, the DVD set of _Bones_ and hand sanitizer. Removing everything reveals a second note, that simply says, “Okay, okay, Natasha picked up most of this stuff and made the soup but I provided the Vick’s.”

“ _Hhtch’ **SHHUHH!**_ ” Steve sneezes and decides to go ahead and start season one. He’s already surrounded by a mountain of tissues and watched six episodes before the NyQuil knocks him out cold.

* * *

“You can sleep here,” Tony offers, gesturing to a lavish bed in a large bedroom. “My room’s just down the hall if you, uh, need me.”

Bucky nods his thanks. He’s had a great time tonight surprisingly, but his thoughts still go back to Steve. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony shuts his door. Bucky immediately wriggles out of his shirt and climbs into the huge bed, pulling back the blankets and heavy comforter. It takes him forever to go to sleep and when he does, he has a nightmare.

_He’s drowning. Bucky’s in the middle of the ocean, the salt-water washing up again his face and stinging his eyes. He knows full well how to swim, but the water’s so dark and he can’t see anything. Kicking his feet doesn’t help keep him afloat and his one good arm isn’t much help either. Suddenly, his metal arm feels like it’s made of solid lead and abruptly starts to drag him down into the water’s depths. Down, down, down he goes and his mouth and lungs fill with water. His chest is on fire and he can’t breathe. All he can think of is Steve, Steve..._

“Steve!” Bucky wakes up screaming Steve’s name. He’s buried deep underneath all the blankets, which explains the drowning notion, but it takes him a second to gather where he is. The nightmare’s over but Bucky is sweating and shivering and all he wants right now is Steve. Besides, this little sleepover has gone on far too long.

Bucky sneaks out of his room and takes an elevator down to the first floor. He leaves out the front doors, so as not to set off any alarms, and walks two and a half miles to Steve’s apartment.

Of course, the front door is locked but Bucky doesn’t want to knock on the door or ring the bell; it’s three in the morning, after all. He goes back downstairs and around the building and climbs up onto the fire escape. Bucky crawls through the window like he’s done it a hundred times.

Steve’s completely unconscious, still lying on the couch and some random Bones episode is playing on the telly. He’s snoring really loudly and Bucky can’t recall a time when Steve had snored. He sits on the couch and puts his hands in his lap. Bucky wants to wake Steve up so bad because he actually wants someone to touch him now. He closes his eyes because maybe things will be better if he can just go to sleep.

However, the dream comes back full force. Bucky’s eyes fly open and once again, he’s screaming Steve’s name like there’s no tomorrow and he’s breathing in short, rapid gasps because he can’t exactly breathe or so that’s what it feels like. Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and repeats his mantra. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t—

“Bucky!” Steve nearly shouts. “Bucky!”

His eyes open again. “H-hi, Steve.” He’s sweating a lot.

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s back and feels him shaking. He rubs Bucky’s back and whispers soothing things into his ear like he’s done so many times now. He doesn’t even question why he’s back home and he’s not at all mad. 

“Shhh, id’s okay. You’re hobe, you’re with be.”

Bucky recognizes his friend’s voice and leans into him. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

“Doe, don’t apologize. I’b here.”

Steve starts to turn away from him, panicked. “Sorry Bucky, I’b godda — _hah’CHESHHH!_ ” His hands pull his T-shirt around his nose and he sneezes into it, sniffing thickly afterward. Bucky cringes.

Still shivering a bit, he turns to face Steve. “You are sick.”

“Dot really, id’s jusd a little—”

“Don’t even tell me you’re not. People get sick, time after time,” Bucky snaps. “Why’d you ship me off to Tony’s if you needed me?”

“I don’t wand you to get sigg. Thad’s the l-lasd thing you d-deed... godda — _hahh... hahH! Uh’ **TSHHH!**_ — right dow.”

“You should’ve told me,” Bucky mumbles, scooting closer to him. “Do you remember when you had pneumonia that one Christmas and I had to take you to the hospital at like two in the morning?” Bucky and Steve play this game often, the Do-You-Remember-When, so Bucky can separate his memories from fiction. This one happens to be true.

“Yeah. I had a really high fever.” Steve recalls slipping in and out of fever-induced hallucinations.

“I’m going to take care of you, just like I did then,” Bucky tells him, getting up to fetch the afghan from the armchair.

“ _ **HUSH’** uhh!_” Steve sneezes again, nostrils twitching. “ _Ehhh... hahhH! Hh’ **HDEZCHHOO!**_ ”

“Bless you,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “The last time you had a cold like this was in, what, 1943?” 

It sounds more like a question than a statement.

Steve nods. “Yeah. Ad you wouldn’t stob singig thad song—”

“‘In the Blue of Evening.’” Bucky amazes himself by remembering. “You liked it though.”

“Yeah, I did.” Bucky sees his irritated nostrils flare and plucks a tissue from the box. “Here.”

Steve buries his face into it. “ _Hur’ **ESHHH!**_ ”

“Bless.”

“Thags,” Steve says before blowing his nose. “For everything, I mean.”

“Don’t tell Tony I enjoyed playing Gin Rummy with him.”

Steve chuckles. “I promise.”


End file.
